


How To Fall In Love

by ouijadarling



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Dates, Fluff, Gay, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, Prinxiety - Freeform, Recipes, fall in love bet, my stupid gay bois, there is a bunch of angst sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouijadarling/pseuds/ouijadarling
Summary: When Virgil meets Roman on a chance encounter, they make a bet-Roman will try to get Virgil to fall in love with him in a week. The stakes are high, Roman's hopes even higher. Virgil is bound and determined not to fall in love. Inevitably, their feelings collide. Neither one will admit they've fallen in love-because the cost of losing is too high.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	How To Fall In Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work I've been thinking about for a while. I love baking, and I wanted to translate that into a SUPER LONG oneshot. So, this is what happens when baking meets betting meets love--please enjoy!

How To Fall In Love

Recipe The First: How To Set The Stage

This recipe is best enjoyed on staid winter nights in front of a fireplace with a good book and something you love nearby.

  
  


You Will Need: 

one anxious boy

A purple patchwork hoodie

One self-confident boy

Snow

Cinnamon rolls

And a wager neither one wants to lose.

It was December, and snow was flurrying by. The kind of snow that was dense and didn’t pack very well, so that you had to slog through each step and your boots got uncomfortably wet. Virgil was in his kitchen, patchwork hoodie covered in flour, when Patton brought a damp stranger into the kitchen. Virgil stared at him.

“Um, Pat? Who’s this?” he asked. 

“This is Roman Prince!” Patton said cheerily. “Say hello, Virgil! No need to be rude!”

“Hi,” Roman said. He waved.

“Hello, Virgil. No need to be rude,” Virgil said coldly. “So, care to explain why he’s in here, Patton?”

“My car broke down, and Patton found me wandering around,” Roman explained. Virgil glared at him.

“So, anyway,” Roman continued, “I’m here for a temporary job with the museum. Curator.” 

“Yep,” Patton agreed. “That about sums it up. I figured he could use a snack, so I brought him over.” Virgil sighed. “I have to go now though. I’m late to meet Logan at the library!” 

“Wait, what?” Virgil stared at him. 

“You can talk to Roman for a bit, kiddo! Being social won’t hurt you!” Patton left the apartment before Virgil could stop him. And then it was just Virgil and Roman in the kitchen.

“So…” Roman said. Virgil held up a hand.

“Please don’t ask me any personal questions.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed. “Can I sit down?”

“Whatever.” Virgil turned away, and Roman sat down at the small table. His oven timer beeped. Virgil opened the oven and yanked out the baking sheet, slamming it down on the stove. 

“Wow,” Roman commented. “You’re kind of annoyed.”  
“You think?” Virgil snapped. “Here, take this and shut up.” He poured icing over the plate and shoved it onto the table in front of Roman. Roman took a giant bite of cinnamon roll and grinned guilelessly.

“These are really good,” he said.

“Of course they are. You have icing on your face.”

Roman swiped at his mouth with his shirt sleeve. Virgil leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Are you going to sit down?” Roman asked.

“No, I’m not in the habit of getting comfortable with strangers that just happen to be wandering about.” Virgil glared at the floor.

“Technically, I’m not a stranger.”

“Technically, I don’t care.”

“We were introduced!” Roman cried. 

“No, that still doesn’t count,” Virgil said. “Sorry to disappoint.” Roman waved his comment away. 

“You’re interesting.”

“How?” For all his disaffectations, Virgil was curious.

“You don’t seem to like me...at all.”

“Of course not, you’re annoying, obsequious, and you took my cinnamon rolls.”

“You put it down in front of me!”

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

“Listen. You’re interesting, and I’m only here for two weeks. So let’s play a game.”

Virgil leaned forward, his attention piqued. “A game?” 

Roman grinned. “I can make you fall in love with me, in a week.”

Virgil scoffed. “That would never happen. I don’t believe in love.”

“But what if we tried?” Roman asked.

“How do I win?”

“If, in a week, you can say you haven’t fallen in love with me, and you show no evidence to the contrary, you win. Anything else...I win. You can decide the prize.”

“Okay.” Virgil smirked. “If I win, you drop the temporary job. Go back to wherever it is you were before here. And if you win…”

“If I win, you have to give me that hoodie.” Virgil gasped. 

“No way.”

“Yes.” 

“Fine!” Virgil said. “Do we have a deal?” Roman grinned. 

“We do.” They shook hands.

  
  


Recipe The Second: How To Buy A Gift

Best enjoyed on a chilly day inside a flower shop with at least a hundred dollars in cash.

You Will Need:

Flowers, preferably roses

Blue hair dye

And a vanilla milk shake

“Hello.” Roman was standing outside the door, holding a bouquet of flowers and a cup with a straw.

“Back so soon?” Virgil asked.

“Sorry. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Roman grinned.

“I wasn’t trying to...are those flowers?” Virgil stared in awed horror.

“Roses. Here you go.” Roman handed him the bouquet.

“I’m oddly touched.” Virgil sniffed them.

“No, please, not emotions. The horror,’’ Roman said dryly.

“And-wait, what? Your hair!” Virgil gasped.   
“I wanted us to coordinate,” Roman said.

“So you DYED IT BLUE?” Virgil screeched.   
“Yeah! I think it looks great.”

“Everything looks great on you,” Virgil muttered.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Nothing.”

“Can I come in? I brought you a milkshake…”

“Is it vanilla? I only like vanilla.”

“It’s vanilla, Count Woe-laf. Let me in, it’s freezing,” Roman said

“God, fine. Get in here, Princey.” Virgil opened the door wider, and Roman came in.

“Princey?” Roman asked. Virgil slammed the door behind him.

“Your last name is Prince, idiot.”   
“How terribly original and inventive.”

“Oh, shut up,” Virgil snapped.

“No, no, I like it.”

“Sit down and let me drink my milkshake.”

“Can we watch a movie?”

“This is my apartment.” Virgil took a sip of the admittedly delicious milk shake.   
“So?”

“Fine, but we’re watching Nightmare Before Christmas.” Virgil grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

“Typical emo,” Roman muttered.

“Annoying Disney jock,” Virgil shot back. Roman sat down on the couch next to him.

“Do you have snacks?” Roman looked at Virgil pointedly.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Virgil got up and went to the kitchen. He cut a thick wedge of pie and put it on a plate, carrying it into the living room.

“Ooh, nice--lemon pie.” Roman snatched the plate, taking a giant bite.

“If you get a single crumb on my couch I will eviscerate you.”

“Noted.”

Recipe The Third: How To Go On A Date

Best enjoyed in a candlelit restaurant with fresh-baked pre-meal bread

You Will Need: 

A clean shirt

A white handkerchief

A rainy evening

And an umbrella

“Hi, Jack Sulkington!” It was the next evening, and Roman had popped up again outside Virgil’s apartment.

“What is it with the nicknames?” Virgil asked.

“Hurry up, I have a reservation!” Roman said.   
“You what now?” Roman grabbed Virgil’s arm and yanked him outside, and they went the four blocks to the restaurant. The sky was gray and overcast, and it looked like a storm was coming.

Roman and Virgil sat down at a table and stared at each other.

“So….this is good bread,” Virgil said.

“Yeah.”

“This is awkward,” Virgil muttered.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”   
“Sure.” Virgil leaned back and crossed his arms   
“Why are you here? Like…alone?” Roman asked.

“Here, in the city?” Virgil clarified.

“Yeah,” Roman said.

“I wanted...an adventure. A place to bake where no one could judge me. A new horizon.” Just then, a waiter came to their table, notepad flipped open.

“What will you have to eat?” Virgil saw Roman’s mouth open and cut him off.

“Pizza. A large cheese, please,” Virgil said.

“Okay, no problem.” The waiter left, and Roman gasped in mock-horror.

“Are you kidding me?”   
“What?” Virgil asked.

“You order pizza at a fancy restaurant?”   
“I like pizza,” Virgil defended. “Leave me alone.”

“Okay, back to the subject. You’re here because…” Roman waited expectantly.

“I moved here to just live life how I wanted to. It’s working out just fine so far,” Virgil answered. He took a bite of bread. 

“That’s actually a good reason.”   
“I know. What about you?” Virgil asked.

“The museum.”

“But, why that museum specifically?”

“I don’t know. It just kind of spoke to me,” Roman said. The waiter came back with their pizza, then.

“How poetic.” Lightning whip-cracked and rain started to pour down, dripping down the windows.

“Shut up and eat your pizza.” Roman and Virgil finished the pizza between them, and just before nine o’ clock, left to go home.

“God, it’s still raining?” Virgil complained.

“Isn’t rain your favorite weather? Dark, gloomy..”

“Doesn’t mean I want to walk four blocks home in it.”

“I have an umbrella,” Roman suggested.   
“No way, it’s too small.”

“It would be fine if you didn’t refuse to stay three feet away from me at all times,” Roman snapped.

“Fine! You win! I’ll get under the umbrella,” Virgil said reluctantly. He got under the umbrella, trying to stay as far away from Roman as possible

“Thank you!” Roman exclaimed.

“Shut up and start walking, Princey.”

Recipe The Fourth: How To Cure A Heartache

Best enjoyed with a hot drink with lots of whipped cream.

You Will Need:

One heartbroken friend

Pie crust

Brandy

Socks to slide down wooden floors in

And a broken key on a chain

There was a knock on the door. Virgil opened it quickly. Patton was standing just outside.

“Kiddo?”

“Hi, Patton,” Virgil greeted. He motioned for Patton to come inside.

“Virgil, can we talk? It’s Logan.” Patton looked drawn and sad. He sat down on the couch, and Virgil sat next to him, pulling a pillow close to him.

“Sure, Patton. What’s wrong?” Virgil asked. Patton sighed.

“I was worried…that Logan doesn’t think of me as just a friend. That’s all-that’s what you guys are. Friends. But there’s so much pressure to be more than friends, and I don’t feel like that.”

“Logan loves you. I love you. Everything is fine. You don’t need to feel anything else. We’re friends, Patton. There’s no pressure to find a partner.”

“Virgil, am I broken? I might be, and I’m afraid. Can you…” Patton broke off, taking a deep breath.

“I’ll listen. That’s all. Just breathe, okay?”

“I...I just..” Patton was choking on the words.

“It’s okay, Patton. You can tell me.”

“I’m afraid the world will judge me, and I’m afraid you will too,” he bit out.

“What else?” Virgil waited patiently. He handed Patton a glass of water. Patton took a small sip before continuing.

“I hate being like this. I hate feeling like I’m broken. Like if I can’t love people, no one will love me.”

“Patton. It’s okay. You’re not broken. Not broken at all,” Virgil said emphatically.

“How do you know?” Patton asked. 

“Because we’re family, Patton. You don’t need just one person to love if you already have so many others. We love you. Okay?” Virgil stared pointedly at him.

“Okay,” Patton agreed. He smiled. “Thank you for listening.”

“Of course.”

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Patton.” Virgil hugged Patton gently, and then Patton left.

Recipe The Fifth: How To Kiss A Boy

Best enjoyed with a warm and fuzzy sweater in your kitchen

You Will Need:

Vanilla Chapstick

Green apples

A dash of cinnamon

And a glass of hot cider

Roman had come over. There were two days left until the end of the week, and Virgil was counting down the seconds.

“Is Patton okay now?”

“Yeah, he just needed someone to talk to,” Virgil said.

“That’s good.”

“It is. But why are you here?” Virgil asked.  
“I missed you,” Roman said. His face was annoyingly sappy.

“Please.” Virgil snorted.

“No, I’m serious. I was lonely.” Roman’s face was serious.

“Have an apple and leave me alone.” Virgil tossed him a green apple from the fruit bowl and Roman caught it.

“No fresh-baked snack today?” Roman complained.

“ _NO,_ because it’s a little hard to make snacks when your friend is sad!”  
“Okay, let’s make something right now,” Roman suggested. He bit into the apple with a _crunch._  
“Can you even bake?” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“I am offended! Of course I can!”  
“Surrre, you can.” Virgil rolled his eyes. Roman ignored him and started hunting through the pantry.

“Okay, you have sugar, flour, eggs, and-hey! Chocolate chips!”  
“For?”  
“Chocolate chip cookies, obviously!” Roman grabbed a mixing bowl and started measuring out ingredients. He grabbed an egg from the carton and broke it over the bowl.  
“That’s not how you crack an egg,” Virgil said.

“It’s how I crack an egg,” Roman huffed.

“There’s shell in the bowl,” Virgil pointed out.

“Let me focus!”   
“Here, let me.” Virgil grabbed for the bowl, and Roman moved it out of his reach.

“No, I got it.”

“Okay, fine. You got it.” Virgil went to sit on the countertop, watching Roman. All too soon, Roman had gotten the cookies on a tray and set the oven to bake.

“Yes! Everything is fine! And I even got them in the oven!” Roman dusted off his hands and stepped back.

“Wow. I’m impressed.”   
“Thank you.”

“You have flour all over you.” Virgil dusted off Roman’s shirt. White powder flaked to the floor. Roman’s breath caught. Virgil looked up. Roman was gazing down at him. 

“What?” Virgil asked. Roman leaned down and kissed him, flour clinging onto Virgil’s shirt. After a beat, Virgil kissed him back. Roman slid his hands around Virgil’s waist, holding him. Roman tasted like green apples and his mouth was soft, so soft. Virgil threaded his arms around Roman’s neck, sighing into his mouth. They broke apart a moment later.

“We…” Virgil started.

“I should go now. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that-” Roman started towards the door.

“No, wait-” Virgil reached out, but Roman had gone. Virgil’s heart ached, for some reason he wasn’t sure of.

  
  


Recipe The Sixth: How To Pretend Your Hatred

Best enjoyed cold and in the darkness with your heart stinging.

You Will Need:

A lie

An unlit light bulb

A broom and dustpan

Messy eyeliner

And an extra coppery tear

“Um, Virgil? Hello?” There was a knock on the door, and Virgil flung it open.

“Oh. Roman. I’m...uh..busy..sorry-give me a minute.” Virgil stumbled over his words.

“Okay, I can help.” Roman came inside

“No, it’s fine.” Virgil snatched up the burned-out lightbulb that he’d put down a minute ago.

“That looks dangerous-here, let me take that.” Roman bumped Virgil’s arm, and Virgil flinched, dropping the lightbulb. It shattered on the floor, glass shards spilling everywhere.

“Shit!” Virgil cursed.

“Hold on, it’s fine. I’ll get the broom,” Roman said.

“In the hall closet,” Virgil directed. Roman went to the hall.

“Got it,” he called.   
“Okay, good.” Roman came back in with the broom and started sweeping up the glass shards. Virgil took the broom from him. Roman was staring at him again.

“What?”   
“Virgil, I-” Roman started.

“It’s okay, Roman. You don’t need to-”

“No. This is just a game-and it’s getting out of hand. I’m leaving next week,” Roman said.

“Roman, it’s okay!” Virgil stopped him.

“Are you sure?” Roman asked.

“I haven’t fallen in love with you,” Virgil said

“Don’t worry. I haven’t either.”

Liars make fools out of us all, and there were two of them in the kitchen on the sixth day. There was one day left.

Recipe The Seventh: How To Break A Heart

Best enjoyed with a door to slam and a glass to shatter and a heart to crack.

You will need:

A conversation about happiness

A last day

A goodbye

Tears are optional, use sparingly

And a dash of salt

“Virgil, it’s the last day.” Roman was in his kitchen again. The final day of the wager.

“I know, Princey.” Virgil sighed. “What do you want?”   
“I’m going to New York. Will you come with me? We can get an apartment there-and you can get a job at a fancy restaurant.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Virgil asked blankly.

“Because you’re so good at this! You can make food for people and get paid to do what you love! I thought that was your dream. And we could be happy.”

“With...you?”

“Come with me. Please.”

“No. I won’t do that. Not for you.” Virgil was resolute.

“But you would finally be happy!” Roman said.   
“I don’t need a fancy kitchen and a white coat to be happy and pursue my dreams. I already have everything I need right here.” Virgil motioned around him.

“I guess I don’t fit into that narrative,” Roman said bitterly.

“Maybe you don’t. You should leave,” Virgil said. 

“I lied, okay? When I said I hadn’t fallen in love with you, I lied,” Roman spat.

“It’s too late for that.” Virgil turned away. Tears were starting to slip down his face.

“How can you say that?” Roman asked.

“The same way I said you should leave. You’re killing me from the inside out, and you think I don’t love you?” Virgil whirled around.

“Then let me stay. Please,” Roman begged. “Or come with me.”

“It’s better for both of us. We can’t go on like this.”

“We could try,” Roman said.   
“I am ending--you brought this upon us, and you want to try? Leave, just leave. Please.” Tears were dripping down Virgil’s cheeks, and his heart was already so cold.

“If that’s what you want,” Roman said, and he turned to leave.

“I do.” But he was already gone, and the world was already dark, so who cared?

Recipe the Last: We End Ourselves

Best enjoyed when you have no one to blame but yourself for the way things have turned out.

You Will Need:

Two lonely, stupid boys

Two broken hearts

Residual pain

A lot of Scotch tape

And some black thread to sew the hurt back up.

It had been a year, and Virgil’s heart was still a dripping mess, a bruise of black and purple where the hurt lived. Maybe he could get over it. Maybe Roman was already over him, already forgotten about him. The winter was bleak and bare and cold, and snow was covering the ground when Virgil brought in his groceries. Patton and Logan had come by, but their visits had petered off in the last few months when it became clear that Virgil was of no use to anyone. His skies were permanently gray, and his emotions were asleep inside. So when he started to bake again, chocolate chip cookies this time, a wash of pain hit him again. Thinking of Roman, the things they’d done-it hurt him still. So when there was a knock on the door, he didn’t think anything of it. Probably Patton or Logan.

“The door’s unlocked!” he called. His back to the door, he didn’t see it open, but he heard it. “Give me a second, I’m just going to put these cookies in the oven really quick.”

“Virgil?” Virgil turned, the tray in his hands. He dropped the cookies. 

“Roman?”

“Can we start over?” Roman asked.

“I still love you,” Virgil blurted out. 

“I love you too.” And when Roman kissed him, all Virgil could think about was that this time wouldn’t be the last. Not if he could help it.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos if you've enjoyed this. It took me an incredibly long time to put this together, so every kudos and comment lets me know that you guys are out there and you (hopefully) enjoy my writing! Thank you!!!!


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